


The Statistic Probability of Coffee

by electricmax_exe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Draco says fuck), (I'm really sorry this was super hard to write for me considering some topics that I relate to), (everyone is traumatized oof), (good luck), (like. a lot.), (obviously that changed.), (originally it was gonna be a cute fic of the times harry steals draco's coffee), (so my editing is minor at best), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anxiety, Depressing, Eating Disorders, F/F, M/M, OOC, Rated M for language, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, The Adults Are Kind Of (Definitely) Assholes, side characters, this is... really self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricmax_exe/pseuds/electricmax_exe
Summary: Sharing coffee is just how they cope.





	The Statistic Probability of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> i'm.... so sorry? this is so awful but i needed to write something, ANYTHING, so this is the word vomit that happened. read the tags for warnings. also i don't feel like adding in the italics that it had in google docs but just know, "as per usual" is kind of a joke. also the sentence structure is absolute crap because that's how anxiety works for me. good luck y'all. huge text block warning. also, i hate coffee, but i really like the idea of draco sharing coffee with his close friends. also i stan a draco who wears spectrespecs.

Pansy had always been wonderful at understanding Draco’s mood swings. That was why, when Draco came downstairs looking cold and angry and helping Gregory carry his books without complaint (Merlin, Gregory had gotten excellent at academics, he’d just needed to apply himself), Pansy had handed Draco a steaming mug of coffee identical to her own and walked away. But that connection worked both ways, which was why when Pansy came back from a mystery date with puffy red eyes and a temper to challenge Ares himself, Draco gave her his last sleeping potion and petted her hair until she fell asleep on his bed. Pansy, Gregory, and Blaise were the only people he’d even consider sleeping on the floor for, and that’s just what he did. When Gregory came into Pansy’s room during a makeout session with the girl who genuinely cared for her, they stopped and looked through old photos together, and she let him cry. And when Pansy was being bullied the same as the rest of them but somehow worse, worse because she’d wanted to give up Harry Fucking Potter, worse because she thought Voldemort would murder her if he won and knew that she’d kept Harry Fucking Potter a secret, Draco went out and confronted the gits who were responsible.  
McGonagall honestly couldn’t have cared less about the bullying or that Draco Fucking Malfoy was cursed trying to defend Pansy Fucking Parkinson. She did not have any motivation to un-curse an ex Death Eater, and that was made glaringly obvious in all of her flimsy excuses when Pansy dragged Draco to see her. That pissed off Pansy right to her very core and she decided that not speaking (and forcing as many Slytherins to join as possible) might do the trick. But Millicent was at Durmstrang, Theo and Daphne were at Beauxbaton, Tracey Davis was dead, and more than half of the Slytherins below them had left, especially the sixth (would-be seventh) years, so it didn’t quite have the effect Pansy had desired. It ended swiftly, and Draco’s curse wore off. Pansy made him coffee when he got his voice back.  
This sort of unspoken trust was the kind that developed between children whose spirits were being broken on a daily basis. It was important. Bitter to the very end, but still unwavering.  
Honestly, Draco could compare anything to coffee, he was just that obsessed with it. He took another sip and smiled gratefully at Blaise, who seemed displeased with Draco’s current fashion state.  
“Honestly, darling, you could use a pop of color. Black is classic but you’re starting to look quite ill.” Blaise admitted when Draco offered a sip of coffee from his silver peacock mug in return for some honesty. Draco hummed and let Blaise continue drinking it while he considered. Green wasn’t his color. Maybe a bit, but with all the new connotations and the bullying that had been continuing with no one putting a stop to it, green was out of the question, and thus the only color Draco had ever really worn was ejected from his casual clothes and donated to a wizard thrift shop on Diagon Alley.  
“Perhaps blue? Or red, if you’re really feeling bold.” Pansy put in, stealing the mug from Blaise and taking a few sips as she worked on her Runes assignment. “Hm. I don’t quite get this. I bet Hermione Fucking Granger gets it.” Pansy sighed and turned to her girlfriend for assistance. “Hannah, honey, do you get this part?” She pointed to a paragraph and Hannah examined it carefully before nodding. Pansy handed Gregory the coffee, and he merely shook his head and passed it back to Draco. He was most likely studying for the Charms exam they’d be having tomorrow.  
“Why are you drinking coffee on the floor?” A voice came from behind Draco, and he didn't need to turn around to know it was Harry Fucking Potter.  
“Why not?” Blaise responded with a small smile and a shrug, as if to say ‘I don’t give a single flying fuck, we all almost died so who cares if we sit on the floor?’ Except without actually saying all of that because Blaise could never say what he actually meant. That just wasn’t what Zabinis did. Draco heard Potter shift before responding.  
“There’s perfectly good chairs in any classroom. Or the Great Hall. Or the eighth year common room.”  
“Next you’ll suggest the library.” Draco muttered, except he didn’t, not really, because Malfoys don’t mutter. Malfoys don’t cry either, or wear anything apart from black, or get attached, or do nice things for people without expecting anything in return. Draco had recently been introduced to the idea that maybe it meant that since he was a Malfoy, it didn’t count when he did it.  
“Well, no, food and drink aren’t allowed in the library.” Potter said, sounding a bit smug. Draco rolled his eyes.  
“That’s exactly the point.” He said, taking a long, slow gulp from his coffee.  
“I guess… I’ll just have coffee on the floor then, too, won’t I?” Potter said, plopping down beside Draco. Everyone’s eyes except Draco’s were on Potter, squinting and staring and waiting. What the fuck was Potter doing, sitting with the Slytherins like they hadn’t bullied him and sided with Voldemort and as though Draco himself hadn’t - well. If he tried to take their coffee, the epitome of bonding, Draco had no idea what would happen. He assumed coffee would no longer be sacred and something else would have to replace it, which could be for the best since Gregory was against coffee. The crash messed with his emotions and he preferred to not depend on anything. Something less addictive, perhaps. Draco was already running through the possible replacements when he heard a click and turned to see Potter sucking on a straw that was attached to a black lid on a metal tube.  
“Oh, cool thermos!” Hannah blurted, seeming quite taken with the floral pattern. Pansy clearly took note of that as she vaguely mouthed the word ‘flowers.’  
“Thanks! Hermione gave it to me, said I’d been looking a bit tired. Ron was so confused. I thought his head might explode.”  
Potter seemed a bit too relieved to have something to talk about. Pansy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Blaise leaned over Gregory’s assignment, half helping, half keeping an eye on the situation. What was Potter trying to do? There was a very low chance it was a trap, all things considered, which confused Draco even more.  
Obviously, the only solution was to make Potter uncomfortable for having intruded. Draco had two options: 1. Talk about something mortifying and/or personal, which only had a 60% chance of driving Potter away (a higher rate for Slytherins than his usual 20% rate for non-Slytherins) or 2. Steal something of his to force the awkwardness, which had a good 85% success rate. There were other options, but those didn’t have any possibility of Potter’s wide-eyed confusion. Draco chose the more accurate option: option two. He didn’t try to be sneaky, just started digging through Potter’s bag until he found something interesting (a Gryffindor bracelet, really, Harry Fucking Potter was such a cliché) and put it on. Potter just sat there and watched as Draco rifled through his items, too curious to bother taking back his bag, voice drifting off into oblivion while he focused intensely on Draco. His confusion was quite entertaining when Draco pulled out something worthless (hideous bloody bracelet), put it on his wrist, and neatly closed the bag and returned it to its previous position. Potter stood up on shaky legs and Draco hid a smug smirk.  
“I, uh. I should be going. Won’t want, er…” Potter stared hard at the bracelet on Draco’s wrist. Draco knew it was the arm with his Dark Mark permanently etched into his skin, and apparently so did Potter. “Won’t want Ron or ‘Mione getting worried. See you in the common room.” And he left. Pansy let out a breath she’d been holding and Hannah was staring in awe at the bracelet due to the very bizarre power move Draco had just pulled off.  
“I can’t believe that actually worked.” Blaise murmured. Malfoys didn’t murmur, either, but honestly, Blaise Zabini was an honorary Malfoy. Draco took a sip of his coffee.

The next day, Potter came back. They were in the same spot because they honestly didn’t think Harry cared enough to come back. Not without Weasley and Granger, at least, all with their wands pointed, ready to maim or kill. But he did. And alone, at that. This time, the coffee was Blaise’s. He’d had a talk with Pansy’s mother about what Pansy deserved and he was more upset than Pansy about the angry yelling that had happened. Of course they all shared, but it was Blaise’s coffee and it was in Blaise’s blue Weird Sisters mug and that was what mattered. It had taken a while for any of them to trust Hannah, but she noticed things, and when Draco had slammed his bag against a wall four weeks ago and Hannah said nothing, just handed him a mug of coffee, they’d slowly started including her. And now she was a part of the coffee rotation.  
“Still on the floor?” Harry Fucking Potter’s voice was behind Draco again. Draco had forgotten his tie and Potter was best friends with two prefects, so he did not want Potter to see him, but Potter sat down next to Draco and didn’t threaten him with detention, so all was good in the world of Draco Fucking Malfoy. Except for Blaise, who was practically vibrating with fury because of course the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One himself would sit with them, would use his choices and options that not everyone had so thoughtlessly, would waste away his untarnished reputation, would have his future comfortably free to decide on his own. Draco was grateful for Potter being oblivious enough to not notice his missing tie, so he took a sip of coffee from Gregory, passed the mug across the circle to Hannah, and pulled the bracelet off of his own wrist. He’d honestly considered throwing it in the garbage, but he’d forgotten it was on his wrist until Potter showed up. Potter watched in confusion as Draco put the bracelet on Potter’s own wrist and began digging through his bag, not quite sure what to take to drive Potter away this time. But Blaise was angry and the coffee had just gotten to him again and Draco needed to hurry up, so when he saw a flash of red and gold he pulled it out.  
A fucking tie. Go figure.  
Whatever, he thought, and put it on. By the time he finished tying it, Pansy looked very amused, Gregory looked very bored, and Potter looked oh so very pink. Potter stood up, stammered some fake excuse, and left.  
“You alright Blaise?” Draco asked once Potter was out of sight. Blaise merely shrugged, feigning indifference as per usual, and took another sip of coffee.  
“I suppose I must be, to have not attacked such an egotistical man as Harry Fucking Potter.” Blaise commented. His way of thanking Draco by using Draco’s new way of name-calling, even though Draco suspected it was actually rubbing off on his friends. Draco inclined his head and smiled, and then asked Pansy what he should do about his wardrobe because honestly, he’d been thinking about it since yesterday and had no clue how to properly adjust it, and the suggestions of blue and red weren’t very helpful. He didn’t want to seem like he was assimilating into another house, that would be viewed as desperate and would only open up more issues with their peers. Pansy raised her eyebrows at Draco’s new tie and said nothing, just stroked Hannah’s hand with her thumb.

Potter was not back the next day, but Draco dutifully wore his tie as a repellent, of sorts. It made Potter flustered and unable to speak during their shared classes, which Draco found to be very relieving, albeit confusing. Potter’s friends, who had been dutifully pretending Draco didn’t exist since the trial, exchanged concerned glances. Then Thursday arrived. At lunch, Potter visited again (and with only a 24% chance of him coming back, it was quite a feat that he had returned), this time with a picnic basket. He didn’t dare take his tie back himself (no one touched Draco Fucking Malfoy’s neck and lived to tell the tale) but instead unpacked all the food, ate a bit from every section to prove it wasn’t poisoned, and then leaned back and stared at Draco until he gave in. Which didn’t take very long, considering how uncomfortable the newfound attention was making him. So Draco undid the careful knot himself and handed the tie back to Potter, then ate something small alongside Gregory and Hannah, who were digging in with gusto. Pansy eventually joined in. Blaise was much too proud, but he snuck some when Potter wasn’t looking in his direction, and took care to sip Gregory’s coffee from Gregory’s quidditch mug whenever he thought Potter might be looking near him. No one really wanted Potter to leave then, them all owing him some sort of debt, so Draco didn’t steal anything belonging to him and he thought he was imagining it when Potter seemed a bit disappointed at the end of lunch.

The next day, he returned. Hannah had needed the coffee today, so it was her sunflower mug that was passed around. Draco was mid-sentence when Potter sat down without a word, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was anxious. Hannah, a natural empath, could literally not handle Harry Fucking Potter and his moodiness, so with a desperate look from Pansy, Draco did his thing and slid Potter’s bag over to himself, taking care to meet eyes with Potter before leaning over it. After inspecting everything inside the bag and finding nothing worthwhile, Draco glanced at Hannah, who was drinking her coffee very quickly and in a very distressed fashion, and made a decision. Rather than just tell Potter to leave or take some trinket he couldn’t even use to repel the scarhead, Draco pulled Potter to his feet and started removing his own robe. Potter flushed immediately, backing up a bit when Draco held out the robe but exchanged robes nonetheless. Draco put on Potter’s which honestly fit him pretty well, and Potter put on Draco’s and marveled at the same discovery. Draco then sat back down and began helping Gregory with his Potions homework without a single word, and Potter didn’t even bother making up an excuse when he left. Hannah was very relieved to be without the very emotional Harry Fucking Potter, and that made it easier to ignore Blaise’s raised eyebrow and Pansy’s knowing look. Draco wore Potter’s robe for the rest of the day, and the duration of the Hogsmeade trip the next. Just to keep Potter away, of course, not because it smelled like him or anything. Even though everyone looked at him oddly when they noticed he’d gone to Hogsmeade wearing a school robe on top of his casual clothing. It wasn’t like he didn’t already get nasty looks (and worse hexes), but the confused ones were different. Discomforting. Draco knew that if the other students knew Potter was sitting with the Slytherins so often, they’d assume he was under imperius and most likely decapitate Draco, so he didn’t mind the funny looks so long as no one knew it was Potter’s robe.

Sunday he returned the robe to Potter in the common room, where they usually didn’t acknowledge each other and only had a 13% chance of speaking, and Potter surprised him by returning the courtesy. They didn’t exchange words, as per usual, but Malfoys did not avoid conflict and so when Malfoy walked back up to his dorm and missed breakfast so he wouldn’t have to deal with everyone’s criticism, he most definitely was not avoiding anything. He knew they’d been watched in the common room, but Draco did not want to be alone with Potter. And when Pansy came up with Draco’s mug full of scaldingly hot coffee, the way she only made it if it was for him alone (he was the only one who wanted his coffee to burn him. Atonement, of some sort), Draco sat in silence with her for an hour. He only hissed in pain for the first twenty or so and Pansy calmly petted his hair each time. She was used to this penance now, although it used to come in other forms. Draco was grateful for the many uses of coffee. Before the war even began, much less ended, well. They’d used whatever form of suffering any of them could get their hands on as penance for their parents’ crimes as well as their own. Draco’s had always been hot drinks and little to no food. Pansy’s was men. Gregory’s was Draco. Blaise’s was alcohol. They were a bloody sodding mess and now that Draco was the only one doing it anymore, his taste buds were well and truly fucked.

At lunch on Sunday, at the regularly scheduled time because Pansy couldn’t breathe without a schedule, they settled into their fourth floor alcove once again, sipping Draco’s coffee from Draco’s peacock mug and sharing food and notes. Potter did not show up, and for that, Draco was grateful because he was the one who would need Harry Fucking Potter to be driven away and did not have the nerve to do it himself.

Monday, Potter was back. Gregory had been hexed and was with Pomfrey, but she’d kicked them out, and so they were one member short. Potter arrived, dropping beside Draco, as per usual, and held out a tin of cookies.  
“They’re good, I promise. Molly makes them - Molly Weasley, I mean. She’s a wonderful baker.” Potter explained. Draco didn’t care if they were poisoned. He’d become the first to risk death, lately, but he nibbled on a cookie and Potter gave him this small smile that almost made him wish they were laced with something deadly because Draco Fucking Malfoy definitely did not deserve that kind of look and Merlin knew Harry Fucking Potter was too stubborn to leave well enough alone, so the only real solution was, well, death. Then Hannah’s hand was on Draco’s shoulder and he could breathe and he swallowed the cookie and wished Gregory were there, with his quidditch mug full of coffee and his refusal to actually partake in drinking it but understanding the ritual and letting them do it anyway. Potter seemed a bit confused, as per usual, by the goings on happening beneath his nose. Blaise, becoming tolerant enough to Potter’s presence to at least have small talk (there had been a 79% chance of that happening), looked at Draco and continued their week-old conversation.  
“I was thinking perhaps something earthy. Brown, maybe? Then again, maybe not, brown doesn’t go very well with your eyes.” He said, not caring that Potter was there to hear their chatter. Draco cast a wary glance at Potter before responding.  
“I don’t know. I quite like what you’ve got going on, with the teal and purple accents, but those don’t suit me at all. At least, purple certainly doesn’t.” Blaise looked thoughtful, but uncertain, like he was avoiding something. Draco didn’t have any coffee to bribe him with, but Pansy beat him to the punch anyway.  
“Coffee for your thoughts, darling?” She said, kissing Hannah on the cheek and tilting her head at Blaise, who sighed and relented.  
“Red is quite decent on him. Not bright red, mind you, that’s never good on most anyone, but a maroon. Don’t you think?” Surprisingly, Potter was the one to speak up, a bit wavering because he knew he didn’t quite fit with the puzzle here but knowing he’d been included for a reason anyway. There’d only been a 27% chance that he would join the conversation.  
“If we’re talking about Draco, I agree. Darker reds are good.” Draco coughed heavily, face burning in embarrassment at the first name usage. But Hannah came to his rescue, the angel.  
“Harry, I’m so glad you agree too. Red is perfect.” And Pansy could only nod because by then she and Hannah were kissing and Blaise was doodling on his parchment which was fine because it wasn’t really doodling because Malfoys didn’t doodle. Draco snuck a glance at Potter, who is staring at his bag, so for reasons that are unknown to literally everyone sitting there, Draco pulled Potter’s bag toward him and methodically sorted through it, not rifling like he had in the past.  
“Harry, you really should try and keep your things more organized. It’s as if you walk through fields of those horrid pixies every morning, honestly.” Draco said, huffing a bit as he moved things into better positions and more fitting spots. Potter seemed uncertain but he stayed, watching Draco with eyes that burned through Draco’s face. Draco put everything in nicely and slid the bag back toward Potter, avoiding Blaise’s harsh eyes and Potter’s pink face.  
“Er, Draco? Are you alright?” Potter asked, using Draco’s first name again, and Draco felt like he might keel over from the shock of it. Draco knew he was acting odd, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.  
“Oh he’s more than fine, darling. Perhaps you should find something for him to borrow, he seems to have grown a bit used to wearing your things.” Blaise said. He sounded slightly demeaning, but what he really meant was ‘why don’t you both go have a shag somewhere because I’m tired of being a fifth wheel.’  
“Uh… what?” Potter asked. Draco’s head snapped up, his face very red, and squinted at Blaise. His vision went blurry for a second, but he ignored it.  
“Are you trying to kill me, Blaise, sweetheart? Are you genuinely hoping I’ll drop dead?” Draco blurted, sure that Blaise would say yes, obviously that was what was happening, please do throw yourself off the Astronomy tower, won’t you? But Blaise tilted his head in that Blaise way and there was only a 2% chance he’d tell Draco to off himself so Draco just sighed, accepting his fate with Harry Fucking Potter, and reached up around Potter’s neck to steal his tie once again. Draco then removed his own and tied it for Potter, ignoring the sharp inhalation of breath when his fingers brushed Potter’s skin. Potter was clearly overzealous and set about tying Draco’s, but when his fingers brushed Draco’s neck, all Draco could do was wince.  
Harry Fucking Potter immediately stopped and leaned closer to inspect, frowning. “Are you alright, Draco? Do you need to see Pomfrey?” He questioned, actually genuinely worried for Draco Fucking Malfoy, and Draco felt the guilt of existing seeping into his bones. It was so easy for Blaise to cough and startle Potter away that Draco almost considered letting the giant squid do with his corpse as it pleased. Draco knew when Potter saw the bruises from the shame on his face. No one but the Slytherins had stopped it. Not even the adults, although technically most of the eighth years were adults.  
“I’ve got to go.” And this time, Draco was the one rushing away, leaving behind a thoughtful Blaise, a still-snogging Pansy and Hannah, and one mug of Harry Fucking Potter. 88% chance of not being followed.

In all honesty, Draco only vaguely knew where he was headed. He’d come to learn the less-populated halls and had been using them for some time now, so pacing through one of the emptier ones (only a few first years who really didn’t give a damn that he was there, thank Merlin) was his first instinct. Then lunch ended and Draco had no idea how he was going to sit through any class, so he went straight to Pomfrey, who probably couldn't be arsed about his mental state and was more than likely going to send him to class anyway. 57% chance she’d shoo him away. But he went, because Gregory was there and Potter wasn’t, and that was what Draco needed.  
“Mr Malfoy, what a surprise. You’ve not come here of your own volition in quite a while. What seems to be the matter?” Pomfrey spoke in a soothing voice, and Draco somehow found the nerve to gesture toward his neck, which was still heavily bruised from the last attempt to murder him. Honestly, Draco was an idiot if he thought the Savior himself would see bruises and not ask about them.  
“Got tired of dealing with it on your own? Alright, sit down, I’ll get you something to help.” Draco didn’t even mind the little dig because it was accompanied by a small, knowing smile and lately Draco had just had to accept that some people knew his personal going ons a bit too well.  
“Thank you.” Draco said, seating himself on the edge of an empty bed. “I tried to handle it myself but someone touched it and I really don’t think I can take it anymore.” And Draco Fucking Malfoy absolutely did not burst into tears right then and there in front of a sleeping Gregory and Madame Pomfrey and whoever the hell else was in there, because Malfoys did not cry. Much less about having their bruised necks touched so very gently by the Chosen One after being put there by his ex-girlfriend’s friends.  
And if Draco Fucking Malfoy did not cry, then Madame Fucking Pomfrey most certainly did not tell him to lay down and allow him to miss the rest of his classes before sending him to dinner, bruises faded to almost nothing, with a small pepper up potion. If she ignored the signs of malnutrition, well, he couldn’t really blame her, could he?  
Draco did not deserve such kindness, but he took it anyway because even though it made him feel worse, it also made him feel better. When he got to the Great Hall, he was surprised to find Potter seated next to Pansy, ignoring the stares that were likely scorching through him. Draco’s presence attracted a few stares, a few smirks, a few snickers. The rumor mill had done its duty once again, he supposed, walking with false confidence toward his usual spot between Hannah and Blaise.  
“Want some pumpkin juice?” Was all that Hannah said, and Draco was grateful so he nodded and drank his pumpkin juice and pretended that Harry Fucking Potter didn’t exist. Potter sent looks his way but didn’t intrude, and Draco felt even worse because he didn’t deserve that kind of respect. He glanced toward Granger and Weasley, who were watching him suspiciously, and he felt himself relax a bit. That was more normal. That, he deserved.  
And then. He noticed how nicely Potter’s green and silver tie matched his eyes and remembered that he himself was wearing a half tied Gryffindor tie and oh Merlin they must think him to be some kind of impostor, Draco really should just walk into the Forbidden Forest without his wand and submit to whatever death awaited him.  
“Draco, darling, stop looking so miserable. It’s just pie. You don’t need to set it on fire with your eyes.” Pansy said, patting Draco’s fidgeting hand. That was Pansy code for ‘calm down please, everyone can see that you’re unnerved, don’t give them any more weapons Draco,’ and Malfoys were never unnerved. Draco allowed himself one shaky, steadying breath before piling food onto his plate and chatting like everything was fine. If he barely touched his food, only the Slytherins noticed.

That night, when Draco returned to his dorm to find Gregory asleep already, he tucked him in properly and left to sleep elsewhere. It was a Monday night and Gregory had taken a sleeping potion, so there was only a 3% chance of Gregory having nightmares. Draco ended up sitting on the blue sofa and stayed there considering and thinking and pondering the hours away until the light shone through the window and people started to wake up, at which point he went back to his dorm, showered, dressed, and left for the kitchens. Draco noticed Potter watching him but paid it no attention. He needed something to get him through the day.

“Mr Malfoy, sir! We had no idea that you would be visiting again!” A smaller house elf named Bumble said excitedly. Draco smiled softly, recalling the times he’d visited in the past two months. His sincere apology and offer to help had been accepted and refused, in that order, and the house elves had taken a liking to him.  
“Hello, Bumble. I was wondering if you had any spare coffee?”

Harry Fucking Potter could go fuck himself, Draco decided, sipping on his scalding hot coffee and taking a small bite out of a piece of bacon to quiet his pained stomach. Potter was chatting with Longbottom and sitting next to Pansy again, much to Weasley and Granger’s annoyance. Granger caught Draco’s eye and tilted her head, motioning that the two should talk, but Draco looked away and pretended he hadn’t seen. There was a 10% chance she’d walk over to him, a 30% chance she’d beat him up the next time she caught him alone, and a 60% chance she’d just accept that he didn’t want to speak. All approximations, of course, but Granger was decent enough for the last statistic to be very, very accurate. Malfoys still didn’t avoid conflict, but that was all well and good because Draco Fucking Malfoy was not avoiding anything.  
“Have you heard from Lucinda?” Draco asked Gregory, who was up and about by his own accord today. Gregory nodded and swallowed his food.  
“She said if I pass all my NEWTs I might have a shot.” He said with an excited look in his eyes. Draco smiled fully, wanting Gregory to understand how proud he was. He felt a bit dizzy, if he was being honest.  
“It’s in the bag, then.” Draco ignored the mocking from down the table, offering Gregory his coffee when his face fell a bit. Whatever Gryffindor was idiotic enough to insult Gregory would have to deal with the Slytherins if they dared admit it was them (which was only 12% likely).  
“Who was that?” Potter demanded, standing up, shocking Draco out of his seat. Literally. He fell off of the bench, but Blaise and Pansy caught him without a thought and pulled him back up.  
No one was responding to Potter, however, and the Great Hall seemed unusually quiet. Potter slammed his hand on the table, and Draco stared down at his food, trying not to fall asleep or fall over again. Not sleeping and not eating were really doing a number on him lately.  
“We don’t know what you’re talking about though, Harry.” Someone (probably Brown) spoke up. Potter sighed.  
“Someone made fun of Goyle for talking about his NEWTs and I’d like to know who.” Draco frowned at his bacon and coffee. He wasn’t sure what would happen, statistically speaking, and he really didn’t like that. But the great and powerful Potter must have had some sort of magical trust pheromones injected into him as a baby because someone spoke up.  
“Sorry, Harry. It was me.” Macmillan confessed. Potter scoffed, being meaner than he’d ever been to anyone but Draco.  
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to him.”  
“Merlin’s fucking beard, Harry, stop it. You’re just going to make it worse.” Draco muttered, and everyone’s attention was on him and he didn’t really feel like explaining something they all already understood, so he got up and he took Gregory Fucking Goyle with him to their first class together, finishing his coffee there. He didn’t realize he’d used Harry Fucking Potter’s first name until his mug was empty and Gregory was chattering with the Professor about applications of Arithmancy in magical fields.  
“Bollocks,” is what Draco didn’t say, because Malfoys didn’t say things as crude as that. Or as crude as ‘fuck,’ for that matter.  
And then students began filing into the classroom and Draco had to pretend everything was fine.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing Harry Fucking Potter said when he sat down with them during lunch. Gregory nodded and passed Harry Fucking Potter his quidditch mug of coffee. Harry took a sip, looking uncomfortable under the Slytherins’ eyes, and passed the mug to Draco, who for once did not take a drink and instead simply passed it across to Hannah. He was feeling anxious and upset and didn’t want to recognize Harry Fucking Potter’s fucking friendship.  
Pansy, however, was having none of it. “Don’t like the coffee, darling?” She asked, but really she meant ‘if you don’t drink that fucking coffee and pay back your life debt I will personally shove the whole mug down your throat,’ and Draco scowled and took the mug back from Hannah’s outstretched hands, reluctantly taking a sip before passing it back to Hannah. He stared directly into Pansy’s eyes.  
“Delicious, Pansy, honey. Thank you ever so much.” He said, a bit coldly. What he really meant was ‘I drank the fucking friendship coffee with Harry Fucking Potter, now please let me sulk and be miserable.’ Pansy raised an eyebrow and turned to french braid Hannah’s hair. Harry Fucking Potter seemed to understand that the small talk went deeper, and while he didn’t understand, he was smart enough to keep quiet during the exchange.  
“Gregory, sweetheart, could you help me with my Defense assignment?” Blaise asked, his way of getting everyone distracted to force Draco to talk to Harry Fucking Potter.  
“Uh. Draco.” Harry Fucking Potter said, eloquent and seeming nervous. Draco didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the wall behind Pansy. Harry Fucking Potter leaned closer. “Draco.” he said again, and Draco snapped.  
“What on earth do you want to say, Harry Fucking Potter? Now that I know you’re human I feel ever so bad about never stepping in for any of you, Draco Fucking Malfoy. Save it for someone who cares. Oh but Draco Fucking Malfoy, I defended Gregory Fucking Goyle! You probably just made things a million times worse, now those fucking Ravenclaws have more words to fire at us when they decide to put is in nooses that we made ourselves. Stop being so self obsessed, Draco Fucking Malfoy, Pansy Fucking Parkinson oh please do calm him down! Fuck right off, you bloody asshole.” Draco snatched the coffee and gulped half of it down, ignoring Harry Fucking Potter’s stupidly hurt look. Draco took a deep breath and shook his head. “Anyway. Pansy, what did you get on that Charms exam? I never asked.”  
“Full marks, Draco, darling. More coffee?” Pansy said, not missing a single beat. Draco knew what she meant, and he didn’t want to hear it, so he elected to ignore the sub-conversations this time around.  
“Did you get the part about that one charm to do with the gnomes?” Blaise butted in, and Draco smiled at him. If Draco was to pretend he hadn’t just unrightfully yelled at Harry Fucking Potter, it was nice to have a bit of backup. He could burn his tongue and skip dinner later.  
“Um. I’m sorry. What just happened?” Hannah seemed a bit frightened and glanced warily between Draco, Harry Fucking Potter, and Pansy. Harry shrugged, still staring at Draco, who passed Hannah the mug, skipping over Harry entirely. Draco looked at Gregory with an apology on his face and Gregory nodded and went back to his assignments.  
“Draco just told Harry that he has a thing for him in his own horrible, condemning way that means he thinks he deserves all the bad things that could ever possibly happen to him.” Gregory Fucking Goyle spilled Draco’s dirty laundry like it was idle chatter. Harry looked very thoroughly confused. Draco felt his heart stop beating. “Sorry Draco, it’s true.” Draco felt his stomach drop and he most certainly did not black out because that was not a thing that Malfoys could do. He simply woke up in the hospital room feeling mortifyingly frail with one very concerned Pomfrey bustling about.  
“Uh. What?” Draco said very eloquently. Pomfrey was quick to stick a vial in his mouth, and Draco was too out of sorts to spit it out so he just swallowed the potion and wiped his mouth.  
“I can’t believe I didn’t think anything of it when you were here before. You foolish child, when was the last time you ate?” Pomfrey was terrifying. Draco shrank further under the covers and thought back.  
“Er. This morning? I had a bite of bacon.” He was quite pleased with his answer.  
“At this rate you won’t need to throw yourself off the Astronomy tower like you were mumbling about in your sleep! You’ll waste away in a matter of days, Mr Malfoy!” Pomfrey was yelling. Draco flinched.  
“Malfoys don’t mumble.” Was all he could say, and Pomfrey clenched and unclenched her fist.  
“You, Mr Malfoy, are going to stay here until you eat a full meal and give your body time to digest it.” She demanded. Draco did not black out again a second later.

A few days later, Draco was discharged and his skin no longer looked quite so washed out and sickly. He’d been visited by the Slytherins and Hannah, as well as one very peculiar Luna Lovegood (Draco took the opportunity to apologize for everything, and Luna had responded by giving him his own pair of spectrespecs. He quite liked how the world looked through them and wore them as often as Pomfrey had allowed, reaching out to touch the tiny white fuzzies surrounding his head). But no Harry, which Draco supposed made sense because who would visit someone who yelled at you over nothing, revealed that they had a massive crush, and then promptly fainted due to malnutrition and sleep deprivation? Not to mention if that someone was also your oldest enemy and an ex-Death Eater who had bullied your closest friends.  
“Draco, darling, Susan Bones baked you a pie.” Pansy said when Draco stepped into his dorm late that night. Draco scowled. Pity pie. Wonderful. “Not out of pity, but because Hannah’s been talking us up to the Hufflepuffs quite a bit, apparently. We each got one.” Pansy looked a bit pink, but Draco pretended not to notice.  
“Well, then. I suppose that’s alright.” He didn’t bother doing anything more except crawling into bed and passing out.

Draco had, apparently, tortured himself nearly to death, and the only reason he didn’t continue with the physical suffering was because he knew Pomfrey would drag him back from the dead just to give him detention. So Draco ate and Draco slept, but he still drank coffee. He just… stopped burning his tongue. No, Draco Fucking Malfoy tortured himself for the next month by noticing whenever Harry Fucking Potter entered a room. Noticing when he laughed, when he seemed upset, when he did his fucking essays. Draco hadn’t even noticed his attraction to Harry, if he was being honest, but his friends had noticed a long time ago (except for Hannah, who only found out when Draco stole Harry’s tie, and Luna, who really didn’t care) and had been waiting on him to realize it himself.  
Harry. Fucking. Potter.  
Draco found himself noticing when he noticed Harry. Before, it had just been brushed off as ‘he’s the enemy, my obsession makes perfect sense,’ but now he understood. And Draco Fucking Malfoy was perfectly fine with sipping coffee and thinking about all the ways he’d fucked up just to get himself upset.

Eventually, Harry sat down beside Draco after the most uncomfortable winter break of Draco’s life, excluding the time when Voldemort was in the Manor.  
“Have you studied for the Potions exam?” Harry asked Gregory, and Draco felt his chest clench tightly as Harry ignored him. But still, he savored it, because who else could make Draco feel this worthless? Who else could drive him to the edges he wanted to fall off of? Draco sipped his coffee - it was always his coffee, lately, with Pansy and Hannah introducing everyone to the Hufflepuffs, Gregory getting Os in most of his classes, and Blaise settling down with a boy named Justin. No one had wanted any of his coffee for a week or two, either, and so Draco was content to sit alone in the circle and sip his coffee out of his mug. Sometimes Luna came by and accepted a drink, but she said that caffeine only messed with the ‘circadian rhythm,’ whatever that meant.  
Gregory and Harry spoke for a bit, and then it was almost time for their next class and Pansy and Hannah headed toward Runes (with small, understanding waves in Draco’s direction) and Gregory went to Arithmancy (he ruffled Draco’s hair) and Blaise wasn’t there to begin with. Harry, however, stood up with Draco and stepped in front of him, blocking his path.  
“What?” Draco asked curtly. He was ready for Weasley to come around behind him and Harry to have not spoken to him at all. 60% chance that would happen, 30% chance Harry socked him in the face, 5% chance Harry told him off, and 5% chance Harry walked away and did nothing. All approximations, of course, but Draco was quite confident in his statistics.  
And then Harry Fucking Potter was dragging Draco Fucking Malfoy into a tunnel behind a statue and pressing him against a wall and kissing him senseless. The mug fell from Draco’s hands and shattered, splashing warm brown liquid everywhere. Draco, obviously, was unsure if Harry meant to hurt him with the kiss or not, so when he pushed Harry away, he also gripped Harry’s robes to stop him from leaving.  
“What,” Draco panted, “the fuck?” Harry groaned and hid his face in Draco’s neck, and Draco was about ready to hex him.  
“I cannot believe you didn’t once take anything of mine. Do you like to suffer, or something?” Harry asked, raising his head to look at Draco once again. Draco squinted, trying to figure out if this was a test.  
“Wasn’t that obvious by me yelling at you the moment I thought things might be going too well? Or perhaps the lack of food and sleep that landed me in Pomfrey’s wing tipped you off?” Draco wasn’t sure if Harry was playing some sort of cruel joke. It could have been the last nudge he needed to lose his final grip on sanity. Harry frowned.  
“What the fuck, Draco?” Harry said, eloquently. Draco huffed indignantly.  
“You can’t save everyone, Harry.” Draco spat with no real venom. Harry sighed and stepped away from Draco, leaning against the wall opposite him.  
“That’s not what I was doing. I just wanted to meet you. The after-war you. I was so bloody obsessed with you for so long, I thought… Well. I was right, but I was wrong.” Harry was making no sense.  
“I’m sorry.” Draco said, not hiding behind any false words or mugs of coffee.  
“Me too.” Harry said, not caring about the spectrespecs that sat on Draco’s head more often than not or the way his hands trembled in the Astronomy Tower.  
Nothing was perfect, and nothing was fixed, but Draco Fucking Malfoy and Harry Fucking Potter picked up the ceramic shards by hand and walked into cass very, very late.


End file.
